


A Craving for Pie

by wow30



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby Eivor, M/M, Male Eivor (Assassin's Creed), The Eivor/Hytham is only implied, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29476224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wow30/pseuds/wow30
Summary: It is not that Eivor is unaware of his new stomach (or increased appetite). No, he can plainly feel the jiggle of fat across his body as he walks, the strain of his gut as he eats. It’s just that with Sigurd off traveling there needs to be more feasts to boost morale. And with the supplies from his raids going towards the bakery, and brewery, and cattle farm, and so on, why should he not enjoy the fruits of his labor?
Relationships: Eivor/Hytham (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	A Craving for Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, this is my first time writing fanfiction in years, and my first time writing a piece like this at all. Hopefully it turned out alright.

“Tell me about Jorvik,” Eivor said, twirling a dagger in his palm, “Hytham says there are three more targets there.”

“If that is true, you are in luck.” Randvi smiled. “Our old friends Hjorr and Ljufvina have made their homes there. Both had status and influence in Norway, so they may have some insight into the city’s politics.”

“Good,” Eivor said, plunging the dagger through the map and into the table. He was glad Randvi never moved the map, otherwise they might have had to replace the table with one with fewer holes. “I shall leave after tonight’s feast.”

“I will send a message ahead right away. And, Eivor,” Randvi looked at him with concern, “Are you… alright?”

“Speak clearly, Randvi.”

“It is just… you’ve put on some weight lately. That is all.”

Eivor inhaled, his gut sucking in along with it, before crashing back down with an exhale. “I am fine, Randvi. Do not concern yourself with me.” He turned to leave, heading to ring the bell to signal the start of another feast.

* * *

It is not that Eivor is unaware of his new stomach (or increased appetite). No, he can plainly feel the jiggle of fat across his body as he walks, the strain of his gut as he eats. It’s just that with Sigurd off traveling there needs to be more feasts to boost morale. And with the supplies from his raids going towards the bakery, and brewery, and cattle farm, and so on, why should he not enjoy the fruits of his labor?

Eivor finished off his mead before taking another bite of meat, drips of grease running through his beard. He rubbed off as much as he could before licking his fingers, failing to notice Hytham approaching behind him.

“Eivor.” He said.

Eivor jumped, startled, before turning around and laughing. “Hytham, my friend. Sometimes you are too sneaky for your own good.”

“You flatter me.” He smiled, going in for a friendly hug. Now that Eivor thought about it, Hytham has been hugging him more often recently. Huh. “Randvi tells me you are heading to Jorvik! I only wish I could help more.”

“You’ve already helped enough, my friend,” Eivor grinned, “More than-” He suddenly noticed the fresh bread Hytham was holding, slathered in butter, and was made aware of how hungry he still was. “Are you going to finish that?” He asked without thinking, silently cursing himself.

“No,” Hytham smirked, holding it out to him, “Would you like the rest?”

Eivor already had the bread in his hands and had taken a bite before he’d even finished nodding, letting out a quiet moan he prayed no one could hear. Hytham gave his arm a few pats as he walked off, Eivor’s gaze lingering on the man as he adjusted his now tighter clothes. He would have to talk to Randvi about getting a tailor.

* * *

_Eivor,_

_Hjorr and I were excited to hear you would be visiting. Unfortunately, both of us must deal with some unexpected Yuletide complications outside Jorvik. Please, make yourself comfortable in our home, we shall return in a day or two._

_-Ljufvina_

Well, that was just Eivor’s luck. His only leads in the entire city just so happened to not be there. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, turning back around and leaving the couple’s house in search of a way to pass the time till nightfall.

* * *

A man was screaming, and not in the way Eivor was used to.

“I will not stand for it!” The man proclaimed. “I will find you, pie thief!”

Eivor approached the man, cautiously. “What is this all about?”

“My signature pies! The ones I were preparing for the Yuletide feast! A thief has stolen them! And I will track them down! I-” Suddenly the man lifted his nose to the air and sniffed. “Aha!” He yelled. “This way!” And ran off.

Eivor had to admit, the man’s nose was rather impressive, tracking the trail of smells before finding the aforementioned thief. Although, the thief turned out to just be a little girl, experimenting with the baker’s recipe herself.

“It seems this child makes an extraordinary baker,” Eivor said, “and Jorvik could use one less thief.” 

“Yes, well,” The man nodded to himself, “as long as she stops stealing my pies.”

“Oh, thank you sir!” The girl beamed, running back towards the bakery. “You will not regret this!”

“And thank you for your help, uh,” The man frowned, “What is your name?”

“Eivor.” He smiled. “I am visiting friends in the city.”

“Well, Eivor, take a pie as my thanks!”

Eivor thought about Randvi’s words. “Oh, that will not be-”

“Of course, of course,” The man shook his head, “You said you were staying with someone. Here, take two!” The man shoved two of the pies the girl had been preparing into Eivor’s hands before turning to follow after her, leaving Eivor dumbstruck. “And if you’re ever in need for more, feel free to come by!”

* * *

Eivor had not had pie before, though he had to admit the smell was intoxicating. Yet, he wondered how many in the settlement had noticed his recent… changes. Randvi had been the only one bold enough to point it out, but surely others had noticed. His mind traveled to Hytham, who he had seen watching him more closely these past weeks. Perhaps the man was too kind to bring it up?

Eivor shook his head and stared at the pies, still warm on his friend’s table. He had already eaten but… how bad could one slice be?

He carefully cut out a slice from the pie with his handaxe, warm smells of blueberry and honey rising into his nose. Grabbing the warm crust carefully, he raised the slice to his lips, biting into the sweet, warm piece and letting out a satisfied moan. He took a larger bite, careful to not burn his tongue, and finished off the piece with a third before licking his fingers clean.

Eivor looked down at the rest of the pie and licked his lips, still hungry, before figuring another slice couldn’t hurt. Or another. Or another. By Eivor’s fifth slice he could feel his armor pushing into his stomach, struggling to keep it held in. He released the armor as quickly as he could, letting the metal fall to the floor with a solid clang as his free belly surged forward in a noticeable curve. He could feel that the bottom of his gut was exposed, but try as he might his undershirt would not stay down as he tugged on it.

“Gods, what is happening to me?” Eivor groaned in frustration, rubbing his heavy gut in soothing circles. He sat on a nearby chair, his belly resting on his thick thighs as he pulled his undershirt over his head and examined his expanded form. His hands traced his chest tattoos softly, the images now helping to hide his new stretch marks, before making their way up to his breasts. The once firm muscle, hardened after endless fights, were now covered by a thick layer of fat that he could squeeze. He was glad that his beard must be hiding whatever extra chin he must have formed.

He turned to look back at the pie, his stomach rumbling softly at the sight as he shook his head. He could not eat anymore. Hjorr and Ljufvina were going to return soon, and then…

Eivor shuddered, feeling his body jiggling beneath him. They would see less than a third of pie remaining and know what he had done. No, Eivor would have to hide the evidence. Pushing himself off the chair with more effort than he expected, Eivor once again cut into the pie with his handaxe, splitting what remained into two slices and shoving as much as he could of one in his mouth. His jaw strained from the effort as he chewed, unable to close his mouth fully due to the amount of food. He swallowed, hastily licking the remnants caught on his lips before finishing the slice off, starting on the last piece before he was even done chewing.

When he had finally finished he fell back onto the floor, exhausted from eating, and was lucky to have his added weight cushion his fall. Without thinking, he pulled the pie tin from the table and dipped his fingers in, scraping up the last remnants of honey scattered throughout and shoving them into his mouth between moans of pleasure.

As he dropped the clean tin, the metal clattering against his armor still littering the floor, he let out a loud burp, his body rippling. He adjusted his legs farther apart to give his stomach room to breathe, feeling the fat hang just an inch above the floor, and resumed rubbing it, squeezing the soft flesh beneath his fingers. 

He raised his hand to try and quiet the next few burps that escaped him, his pudgy, sausage-like fingers curling into a fist. His arm fat hid the definition his muscles once had, though he could still feel their strength.

“I could never eat again and it’d be too soon,” Eivor gasped, short on breath, “Gods, I’ve become a whale. I-”

Eivor could smell it, the second pie. He had almost forgotten it was there. And surely, what with his new form and this second pie, his friends would put the pieces together of what had happened. No, he should get rid of that evidence too. Maybe he could push himself off the ground after he had digested and walk outside to leave it for animals to eat, though with how thick his thighs had gotten it may turn into more of a waddle. Or maybe-

Eivor dug his hand into the pie, it having cooled down enough to not burn his fingers. He grabbed as much as his fist could hold before shoveling it into his mouth, digging back into the pie with his other hand so he wouldn’t have to wait as long between bites. 

As he chewed messily into the mush of blueberry, crust, and honey, he heard a loud rip, followed by another, and then another as his pants tore at the seams, his legs bursting out and waves of fat crashing against the floor. Eivor froze, cheeks comically strained and both fists full of pie, practically naked. He swallowed hard, feeling the food settle on his already full stomach.

“I-” He breathed heavily, his stomach pushing out painfully, covering more and more of his thighs, “I need to… Gods, I, I’m-” He let out another burp, freeing up slightly more room in his gut. He growled. “I’m hungry.”

Lifting both fists to his mouth as once, Eivor chewed and swallowed as fast as he could, barely taking the time to breathe between bites. He licked his hands clean greedily, making sure there were spotless before lifting up the pie tin and pouring what remained into his mouth, bits of honey spilling out past his chin and dripping onto his chest, only to be swiped up and swallowed a moment later.

With the second tin clean, Eivor fell back, feeling his body jiggle around him as he sprawled out on the floor, his heavy gut pressing down on him as he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Eivor cursed himself in the morning, his large belly still in pain after last night, as he pushed himself, with some difficulty, off the floor. Gathering up his clothes that hadn’t burst, he made himself somewhat presentable before heading back into town to find someone selling clothes in his size.

On his way, he walked past the man’s bakery and smiled. The Yuletide feast was in just a few days, perhaps after he had eliminated Hytham’s targets he would stay for a victory pie.


End file.
